I still get weekly e-mails from a particular cruise line. Even in the middle of this pandemic, the company is trying to convince me to willingly confine myself and my family on a ship that could become floating death trap. And to pay for the privilege!
I have no intention of cruising any time soon, but I clicked on one of the e-mails today, because I was curious about the details. Sailing dates start in November. How could anyone look out on the world today and have enough optimism to commit to a November cruise?
I couldn’t. Here I am, looking at the large boxes in my dining room that are filled with brand-new dishes, wondering when I’ll ever get to use them, and if I’ll even need such a large set. I had bought the dishes for Thanksgiving, a November holiday, with great optimism. That was before we knew about the coronavirus. Now I think it’s likely that Thanksgiving will be cancelled. Easter was. Then Mother’s Day. Father’s Day will be cancelled. My son’s birthday, which we had been thinking of traveling for, will have to be celebrated at home, in self-isolation. How far does this pandemic spread into our future? How many holidays and events will it cancel?
It’s almost as if I jinxed myself by buying dishes called “Calamityware.” When the company jokingly advertised their dishes with the slogan “Things could be worse,” I laughed. Then I bought the dishes, and now things are worse, so maybe it wasn’t so funny after all.
I’m not serious about being jinxed, though. At the time I bought those dishes, I needed the reminder that things could be worse. I still need it now. Things can always be worse, but as long as we’re alive there is hope. Maybe not for cruises, maybe not for Thanksgiving, but farther out. There is light somewhere ahead. We just have to keep sailing forward until we see it.
But not on a cruise ship, because that would be crazy.